


In Ogni Senso (Baby, come home)

by SoldierOfMyShadowyMind



Series: Yours [2]
Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Genre: Angst, Benji is a good friend, Character Study, Established Relationship, M/M, Self-Blame, author is sorry for not being sorry, kind of, someone save Will, still a bit of banter and cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6104215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoldierOfMyShadowyMind/pseuds/SoldierOfMyShadowyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will will always wait for Ethan to come back. Until one day when he’s finally confronted with a reality the thought of which he’s always pushed to the back of his mind as something that just wouldn’t happen to them while he knows it some day inevitably will.</p><p>A follow up from <em>Empty Your Sadness</em> (but can be read as a standalone as well).</p><p>The title is Italian for “In every sense”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Ogni Senso (Baby, come home)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this has gotten quite _long_. I intended it to be around 2 or 3k but well. Have 10 instead. 10k of incredibly dark, heavy stuff. Sorry in advance but this happens when I lose my sense of time (and decency).  
>  Anyways, here it is, I’ve finally decided to do something with that title (although I again found a better (or at least, another) title and put the _Baby, come home_ in brackets but this time it needs to be up there because, well, it just fits). This is set after _Empty Your Sadness_ but you can read it as a standalone as well. There’s only one reference but it’s not essential so don’t worry. And please don’t let the length put you off. I don’t know what’s happened to me, I seem to have forgotten how to write short things.
> 
>  **Warning:** This is dark and cruel. And it won’t get any better. Well, I did insert some fluff to lighten it a bit but perhaps that only makes it worse.
> 
> Lyrics at the beginning from _Jet Pack Blues_ by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no idea what Valencia looks like, unfortunately I’ve never been there, so I apologise for any inaccuracies.

 

_She’s in a long black coat tonight_

_Waiting for me in the downpour outside_

_She’s singing ‘Baby, come home’ in a melody of tears_

_While the rhythm of the rain keeps time_

 

* * *

 

 

 

The last thing Will had seen of Ethan two days ago was one of his perfect smiles, and it had been just for him, a short moment when time stood still in the rush of the last days. It had been as if his face was aglow, green eyes glistening in the dim light of one of the narrow alleyways at the back of the central railway station of Valencia.

Will remembers this sight so well because he hasn’t seen Ethan since then. Their mission – just the two of them, not an everyday scenario – had been almost done and it had gone incredibly smoothly, and that’s something Will is going to forever be astounded of. But Ethan had actually listened to his advice and so some major damage to both the progress of the mission and their health had been avoided.

Will hadn’t wanted to go. He wasn’t comfortable with the thought of leaving his partner alone but then, he never is exactly comfortable when Ethan sets out for a solo mission. This time Will could have stayed with him till the end but he wouldn’t have been of any help for the rest that needed to be taken care of only required two hands and one brain. (Ethan’s told him that in a much more gentlemanly manner.) Since _the rest_ hadn’t been dangerous at all Will had eventually let himself be convinced into boarding a plane back to the States, carrying the reassurance in his slim luggage that Ethan would be coming home as soon as any remaining loose ends had been tied up.

“I want you to be safe. No unnecessary risks, remember? You’ve said it yourself.”

“Ethan, this isn’t a risk, it would only mean me looking after you so that you don’t manage to screw the rest up.”

“And who would be looking after you? Besides, I always clear up the messes I create.”

Will hadn’t really been able to argue with Ethan because these situations always end in one of two possible dead ends: either Ethan realises that he can’t argue with his boyfriend or Will realises the exact same thing the other way round. This time, the dead end had left Will at a lack of possible reasons to change Ethan’s mind and so he’d just sighed in defeat and accepted things as they lay.

Ethan had left him with a parting kiss to his lips and the promise that it’d only be one day, two at maximum. He practically had to push Will away to make him finally turn around and leave with his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, head lowered. But Will hadn’t been able to just walk away without looking back at least once.

And when he’d turned was when he’d seen that smile on Ethan’s face, telling him that everything would be all right. Will hadn’t smiled back, his lips had refused to form that way, but he’d drunken in the sight of his partner until Ethan had waved him away with a laugh.

 _Two days_ , Will had thought when he’d walked down the alleyway. _Two days without him._

He’s lived through six months of not seeing Ethan (and they hadn’t even been together then) so he sure is going to manage two bloody days.

Isn’t he?

 

 

* * *

 

 

Now that Will is slumped on the couch with a cold cup of tea standing forlornly on the small table in front of him (his stomach has been grumbling ill-bodingly since the previous night and if he’s being honest, Will does feel a little sick) he’s staring disinterestedly at the TV where the news presenter rattles off today’s reports. Will’s tried to distract himself from the emptiness of their flat by starting on the mission report but he’d given up after barely typing a few words for he’d always ended up staring out the window rather than at the screen. Since he came back on a Friday evening and it’s Sunday now there isn’t much to do. HQ hasn’t called (and Will is grateful for that) and well, nothing has happened at all. He hasn’t had a message from Ethan either but he didn’t expect one anyway so that’s nothing new.

With a displeased noise escaping his chest Will heaves himself from the sofa and picks up the mug on his way to the kitchen. The tea’s gone cold ages ago and his stomach is still angry. Will considers swallowing some medication but that’s never a good idea without at least some food inside of him. And he can’t eat right now, he’s just not hungry and he won’t be able to swallow even a bite. So he preps the kettle, telling himself that this time he’s going to actually _drink_ the tea. If he’s honest, a really strong coffee is what he could use now. At least that’d wake him from his drowsy state.

The kettle whistles and Will pours hot water over the tea bag. He puts the kettle back, takes the mug. Mechanic motions. A glance out the window tells him that the rain has stopped a little but there’s still a light drizzle coming down on the city.

Will cautiously blows onto the surface of the scalding liquid while he shuffles back to the living room where the voice of the presenter is unstoppably babbling away.

_“Massive car crash in Valencia.”_

At the mentioning of the city his flight ticket states as place of departure Will perks up, eyes immediately on the TV screen.

_“At about two o’clock local time on Saturday, 2 nd of September, a massive car crash was caused by an assumed bomb in the city of Valencia, Spain. An abandoned suitcase raised the attention of pedestrians and the rising panic distracted the drivers on the broad boulevard in the centre of the town. The result, a multiple-vehicle collision, was unavoidable. Official channels have announced that the suitcase was false alarm but the responsible party has not yet been apprehended. Until now the amount of casualties has still not been confirmed but unofficial figures speak of at least four deaths and a double-digit number of injured persons, among them tourists from Italy, Germany, and the United States. The police are currently-”_

Will drowns out the voice but his eyes never leave the screen that flickers with pictures of the car crash.

Will takes a deep breath and just now realises that he’s still standing, cup in hand.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, he tries to tell himself. A car crash isn’t that extraordinary a scenario and although he knows that where there’s an explosion, Ethan’s never far away, but bombs – or fake bombs, whatever – weren’t part of the mission and since it had all been practically done and dusted when Will had left Ethan there’s no point in vexing himself with unnecessary worry. Rationality weighs out rushed conclusions. As long as he doesn’t know anything, he doesn’t know anything. (But can he ever be logical when it comes to Ethan? It has proven to be rather difficult the last four years.)

Will shakes his head at himself and takes a sip of his tea instead of following down any murky road his thoughts offer him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Seeing that he can’t do anything but wait Will decides that he can as well go to bed. Tomorrow the world will look differently (at least that’s what everyone always says, isn’t it?) and he’ll probably feel a little less sick. Convinced that sleep would do him good Will shuffles into the bathroom, brushes his teeth and frowns at his reflection in the mirror. He squints at a tired looking man, exhaustion written all over his face although he doesn’t know what has left him feeling so drained. The dark circles under his eyes complete the image and the frown deepens, causing lines to appear on his forehead. Snorting, Will turns away from the mirror and switches the light off as he leaves the bathroom. Changing only takes him a minute and then he’s creeping under the blanket, crawling into the middle of the bed as if it’s an island surrounded by malicious sharks hidden in the deep waters. Will settles into the pillows and pulls the blanket up. He tries to lay still but it doesn’t work. It’s too warm under the sheets so he pushes them off and turns to lie on his back, his eyes staring at the ceiling the fading daylight paints in all the variety that grey offers. Closing his eyes he inhales deeply and he almost wants to scream at how everything smells like Ethan. The pillows, the sheets, even the air seems to carry his scent and it aches in Will’s lungs when his breath catches in his throat and the sigh comes out as a choked cough. It could be comforting if only Will could be sure that nothing happened, that everything’s okay and Ethan would stand on the doorstep the next day but the analyst in him is already racing through the countless scenarios that end in his boyfriend getting hurt – or even worse. Will curses himself for his brain and screws his eyes shut, trying to drown out the thoughts. If only everything could be _quiet_ for once.

Will sighs, blinking into the settling darkness, bringing up a hand to rake over his face. Only now he realises how tense he is and he hates himself once more for worrying so much. Another character trait that might come in handy on missions but it’s certainly of no use in this relationship. Not in this amount, anyway.

The minutes tick by and Will lies awake, not even trying to keep his mind off Ethan because he hasn’t thought about anything else the past forty-eight hours and why should he now? It’s funny how this man screwed with Will’s life from the moment he stepped into it. And he did so without even knowing. Will doesn’t blame him – for anything – but he can’t count the times he either wanted to run away, disappear, scream, bury his head in his hands, facepalm himself, laugh, or cry all because of Ethan.

Yes, that little fucker has messed with Will’s poor feelings to the point of a nervous meltdown. And still Will can’t seem to get away from him, no matter how life-endangering Ethan’s presence is. Instead he craves for him, for his touch, for his ridiculously wide grin, for the twinkle in his eyes that talks of mischief, for his soothing, silky voice. Will is starting to think that his all-consuming need for this man will be his untimely end but all it needs is Ethan’s saccharine sweet smile to have him falling all over again and he comes running into his arms.

A weak grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. Will must be mad.

He needs him, needs him a little too much. It’s just that tiny bit frightening.

He doesn’t complain, though, because healthy or not, he’s Ethan’s and he rather enjoys how possessive Ethan is of him. Will can tell from how Ethan holds him, from how their kisses turn that trifle more desperate with each day. Their whole relationship is madness but honestly, what isn’t in this adrenaline-fuelled life? Coming to think of it, Will probably wouldn’t even be able to deal with what common language calls a normal life because that wouldn’t feature Ethan Hunt. The man’s made for all the craziness in the world and as long as it doesn’t cost him his messed up life, Will is more than willing to follow him. And perhaps he’d even cast away that one condition, too.

His thoughts stumble to a sudden halt when his eyes refocus and the room has turned a little bit darker, and there’s still nothing but empty space next to him. Will bites his lower lip, aching to return to the pleasant dream world but his mind won’t let him so he continues to blankly stare at the ceiling. Which only does so much as stare back at him, not offering the hint of a solution as to how Will’s going to finally get his body to relax and drift off into sleep. It’s a bit exasperating because he’s terribly tired, but too tired to fall asleep, and the thought of Ethan only serves to keep him awake.

Will grits his teeth, grimacing at the uncommunicative ceiling and turns onto his side again, the one that would have him facing Ethan, and he wraps his arms around himself, not even pretending that it’s because he’s feeling cold.

It’s because he’s fucking lonely.

Another sigh wriggles itself out of his chest and suddenly he feels the sickness again, tying his stomach into knots. It doesn’t help that he can’t get that smell out of his nose, it seems to linger everywhere and it slowly drives him insane for it fuels the desperate need of feeling Ethan’s arms around him, feeling his hair tickle his cheek as he draws him in for an embrace of which Will never wants to let go. He tugs at the collar of the shirt (Ethan’s; it hadn’t even been a conscious action when he’d pulled it over his head) and suddenly he feels like crying for he can’t bear the emptiness this flat seems to possess without Ethan’s laughter filling every corner. The pictures of the car crash flicker before his inner eye and Will scowls at the empty space because how is he supposed to sleep when his mind keeps throwing irrational worries and doubts at him?

“Come home” he whispers into the silent darkness. “Just come home, you hear me?”

Will hates himself for sounding so needy, so wretched but this is what being alone does to him even though he’d like to think he’s grown stronger.

He considers fetching his iPod and putting on some music; sometimes this helps him sleep, one song in an endless loop lulling him into unconsciousness. It’s what made him sleep in the aftermath of Croatia but now that he has Ethan falling asleep has never been a problem again. The steady rhythm of the heartbeat next to him, the warmth of his lover’s body, Ethan’s hand in his hair, reassuring him that it’s all real, that he’s safe and loved, is all he needs. The cold mattress is a vicious reminder of what he needs and what he hasn’t got right now and it’s cruel.

The first notes of the song that’s been his lullaby over so many difficult years pop into his mind but Will doesn’t want to move and get the device that’s slumbering innocently in the drawer of his nightstand. So he stays where he is, curled up under the blanket, face buried in the pillow, waiting for sleep to take him away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Will finally falls asleep, it’s in the wee hours of the morning and it’s a restless, fitful sleep. He would have been glad if he could sleep the sleep of the wounded, the exhausted, but he’s not granted the favour.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Something worms its way into Will’s battered mind and it’s rather insistent, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. A couple of seconds later Will confusedly blinks into consciousness and the first thing he notices is that he’s _aching._ His neck and shoulders feel stiff and cold and only when he flexes his fingers do they seem to come to life again. The sick feeling is still there, too, residing low in his stomach but thankfully it hasn’t developed into a full-blown nausea.

The second thing Will notices is that his mobile is ringing. Quite persistently so.

This has him wide awake in less than a split-second and he keeps telling his mind off for sending excited messages to his heart to pick up speed because for all he knows that might be Ethan on the other end of the line. Will scrambles into a half sitting position and gropes around for his phone but he can’t find the damn thing. The ringing sounds slightly dulled and Will stills for a second, trying to recall where he’s left the device. His eyes fall onto the pile of clothes on the single chair in the room and he’s up and rummaging through his clothes faster than he can blink. Finally retrieving the buzzing thing from the pocket of his jeans he answers the call and presses the phone to his ear, the motion too quick to exactly get a glimpse of the display to check for the caller ID.

“Hey, Will, it’s me” Benji’s voice greets him.

Will deflates a little which his friend seems to notice for he’s sounding slightly dejected when he asks, “Oh, is this inconvenient?”

Will rakes a hand through his hair. “No, certainly not, it’s just… You’re not the one I was hoping for.”

Benji’s nervous laughter fills his ear. “Yes, I can imagine. Sorry” he adds a second later and Will can picture him with that puppy look on his face.

He huffs a small laugh and starts to collect some clean clothes from his wardrobe when the fact registers with his mind that it’s slightly too bright in his bedroom. Foreboding seeps into his brain as he turns in search for the alarm clock.

Which smugly tells him that it’s a quarter to nine.

“Shit!” Will hisses, refraining from smacking his free hand flat against his face. Of course he’s forgotten to set the alarm and now he’s going to be late. A scolding from Hunley really is the last thing he needs just now.

Benji’s enquiring sound of “Hm?” is answered with a rasped, “I overslept. Fuck, I’ve got to hurry up.”

Will squeezes the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he jumps into a pair of trousers, deciding that time is of the essence and that he’s got to leave out the shower. Telling Benji to wait a second he quickly slips into a shirt and finger-combs his hair as best as possible.

“Benji, tell me” he begins as he snoops around the closet for a suitable tie, “has Ethan contacted you? I’m not- It’s just… I haven’t heard from him in two days and he promised it wouldn’t take longer than two days and yes, I know, you can’t really take him up on his promises but… okay, I’m a bit worried” he admits.

When the other end of the line remains silent, Will stills in his one-handed knot-tying motions.

“Benji?” he repeats.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Will ignores how Benji suddenly sounds eerily uneasy and instead goes for a straightforward, “Well?”

“No, I haven’t heard from him either, he, err, he hasn’t contacted me either.” The techie’s voice vanishes into nothing but a mumble towards the end of the sentence and Will can’t help but think that Benji sounds reluctant.

Cocking his head, he shifts his weight and queries, “Why did you call, anyway?”

Benji still refuses to answer him for there is nothing but silence greeting Will’s ear. Slowly getting impatient, Will urges a little more forcefully now, sternness seeping into his tone.

“Benji? Why did you call, something happened?”

“Will…”

But the analyst cuts him off indignantly. “Benji, for heaven’s sake, what’s the matter?! What is it?”

There is another beat of silence before Will hears Benji take a deep breath.

“We don’t know anything for sure yet, it remains speculation until we get confirmation from the data analysis but they said I should call you, they came to me and told me to tell you because I’m your friend. And well, who else should do it, I mean, it wouldn’t make sense and the others don’t have your number, though they could find out if they wanted. The director could do it himself but since he came to me he would probably feel uncomfortable and it’d be odd, the director calling you early in the morning. I suppose they could have asked Jane but she’s on a mission so she doesn’t even know. Oh, she’ll probably kill me when she finds out.” A nervous chuckle interrupts the techie’s rambling. “She hates to be left out, hates when she’s the last getting the information but you know how she’s like.”

Will decides to just bluntly end his rant. “Benji, cut the bullshit, what are you even talking about?”

There’s a gulping sound at the other end as if Benji can’t get enough air into his lungs. He hesitates a heartbeat longer before he says, his voice slower and several nuances quieter, “They wanted me to do this but I kept refusing, I kept saying I couldn’t and I’m still being a coward talking to you on the phone instead of coming round and telling you in person.”

“Tell me what?” Will is slowly getting desperate, pulling his hair back with his free hand. He’s facing the window now; the curtains are still drawn so he pushes them away, revealing a dull September morning.

“Benji!”

“We can’t be sure yet. We have to wait until the data is fully analysed and there’s a rather large mountain of data, you know. CCTV and mobile phone logins and, and computer files and there’s even more. So, we don’t know yet, we know nothing, really. It doesn’t necessarily have to be true. It’s mere speculation.”

Dreadful anticipation settles in Will’s stomach and he feels as if yesterday’s tea wants to crawl up his throat and make a break for it. His mind tells him to stay calm but he’s reminded of the news about the happenings in Valencia with such brutal force he barely gets out his next words and his voice sounds horribly scratchy.

“What is mere speculation, Benji?”

The tie is forgotten where it’s hanging uselessly around Will’s neck and he speaks slowly, as if keeping himself the possibility to abandon the sentence halfway through because he isn’t sure if he wants to know. Not when every second the clock ticks away intensifies the sick feeling in his stomach.

Benji’s answer isn’t helpful but it does its part in confirming the thought Will dreads to think to an end. “I’m not even sure it makes sense to call you yet, you’d only be worried and I don’t want to bother you-”

Will swallows around the forming lump in his throat, ignoring how his heart constricts in his chest when he interrupts his friend. “This is about Ethan, isn't it?”

The way how Benji remains so uncharacteristically quiet tells Will all he needs to know, really. He doesn’t need to hear it to know it’s true, to have his anticipation affirmed although he’d give anything not to. This is what he feared, this is his worst nightmare come true. He should have known better, hell, he didn’t want to leave him, so why did he? Why did he fly home without him? Will’s mind is racing and he hears Ethan’s voice echoing in his head.

_I want you to be safe. No unnecessary risks, remember?_

It’s ridiculous to think anything of it, to assume that Ethan had meant something more by it, that he had been hiding something from him but Will can’t help it. His logical, rational reason doesn’t function when it comes to Ethan and it’s better this way, it’s some kind of an early warning system but this time Will’s ignored the signs and he hates himself for it. At the same time he hates himself for being so irrational because there was nothing he needed to fear, Ethan was just the perfect example of a loving, caring boyfriend when he’d said that and still Will doesn’t know what is easier to believe, that he screwed it up again, that he’s responsible for it all, or that it was just an unfortunate accident that no one could have foreseen.

“It was on the news yesterday” comes Benji’s voice, small and quiet and sounding as if he’s trying to keep his own feelings at bay.

The car crash. Of course. The pictures are back again before Will can stop them but still the knowledge that it was an _accident_ won’t register with his mind; his brain doesn’t let him find comfort in the thought that he couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. But it wouldn’t be comforting, would it? Nothing really can be, it doesn’t matter how it happened, the fact _that_ it happened kills Will and he doesn’t know what to say. His mind is full of pictures and thoughts, throwing accusations at him but he can’t voice any of it. It can’t be comforting since the sheer preventability of it is like a dagger through his heart and he wants to scream but not a single sound comes out of his throat.

Benji coughs a little as if to clear his throat and says, driving the knife deeper in Will’s tortured heart, “There’s a body.”

The finality with which the words are thrown against Will’s head albeit they’re said gently, cautiously, almost knocks him over and for a couple of seconds he forgets to breathe. He’s still standing, in front of the window, staring outside and he wonders, somewhat surprised, how his knees have managed not to have given in already.

Although Will doesn’t answer Benji keeps on talking, one sentence at a time, leaving Will ample time to digest the information he provides piece after piece. Will doesn’t know whether to be grateful or angry but it doesn’t really matter since either way, this is something he rather wouldn’t face and will never quite understand. Let alone accept.

“It hasn’t been identified yet but...” The techie trails off, leaving it to Will’s imagination to figure out what he can’t say.

This is IMF, quick, efficient, quiet, thorough. There’s no doubt that the outcome of any identification process could provide anything other than the horrible truth Will finds himself confronted with but he’s not ready to deal with it, he first needs to compartmentalise, pick this apart, and he’s not sure yet how much time it will take him to come to terms with it. He feels driven into a corner, back pressed against the wall and there’s no, absolutely no way out.

The analyst knows it’s fruitless to ask but he just has to. “Are you absolutely sure?”

Benji so willingly, gladly jumps onto the offered chance of denial that it almost hurts Will physically for he knows that there’s no use in it.

“No, that’s what I’m trying to say, we’re not sure yet, there’s not much ground to base the assumptions on.” He sounds too eager, emphasising every word with such an obvious need for denying, desperate to cover up how he’s feeling, pushing the thought into the furthest corner he can find. “I mean, this is Ethan, things like that don’t happen to him. He’s been through so much worse, this can’t harm him, I mean, you know him, he’s unparalleled in his stupidity but he always makes it through.”

Will drowns out Benji’s voice as he huffs a humourless laugh because what are they doing? They’re only postponing the emptiness that such a loss inevitably leaves behind, attempting to lock away the hurt as long as they can. They both try to cling to the hope that nothing’s sure yet although they know that it won’t lessen the pain they are going to feel as soon as it’s official. They’re acting like fools but sometimes, Will thinks, fools walk easier on this earth so he lets Benji talk, lets him ramble because he knows his friend needs it, and perhaps in that endless rant of his there’s a reflection of what Will can’t say. They’re different in this aspect but they both know the necessity – along with the foolishness – of denial.

Will knows Benji’s only trying to distract him and he’s grateful for it although they probably both know that there’s no point in it. Will knows it’s dangerous to fuel the destructive, corrupting feeling that is hope but at first he lets himself cling to the tiny bit of irrational hope that his heart finds in the unexamined data, the dubious assumptions that Ethan isn’t dead, that it still needs confirmation and until then, nothing can be said with absolute certainty. It doesn’t last long, though, because even if he’s an analyst, a man of facts and figures who’s aware of the importance of verification, he’s also an analyst because he sometimes needs to draw conclusions from mere assumptions and he’s a field agent, too, and his senses are telling him that this is it. It’s hard but he needs to face it. He will need to, anyway. And perhaps it would be better if he just did. At least, he thinks it would. He doesn’t think he can, though. Will’s been through this situation once already. Back then he’d refused to believe that Ethan was gone forever. He remembers the phone call that had quite literally changed his life in all clarity but afterwards Ethan had come back. It had taken him five bloody months but he’d been there, waiting for him. But this time, no matter whether Will clings to the hope, which inevitably will make the pain worse, or gives up and faces reality, Ethan won’t come back. He’s gone for good and the thought fucking hurts. It destroys Will right then and there and he doesn’t think that anything can piece him back together again.

Will knows it’s just his defence mechanism kicking in, building walls around him so that he won’t topple over the edge and fall. Into the endless abyss that he fell into after Croatia, that Ethan has dragged him out of and that he has protected him from ever since. But Will already feels himself stumble, he’s losing his hold. In more than one sense. His hold on the metaphorical ground, the hold on himself, the hold on life, on reality. The darkness opens up beneath him, stares him into the face with the same cruelty as reality does, stares at him and laughs at him for being such a coward, welcoming back its most loyal guest. Only now, it’s deeper and darker and this time there’ll be no one to catch Will by the collar and drag him up again. Because Ethan’s not there to do it. There is no Ethan. It’s irrational, Will knows it but he can’t help it. He knows Julia’s alive and well, Ethan has told him countless times and Will had already started to actually believe it, had started to think that Ethan had managed to erase at least part of the guilt (because he won’t be able to shrug it off completely, Will knows. It will fade, but it’ll never leave him). But now it feels as if he’s killed both of them.

It’s weird how irrationality battles with Will’s logical mind but the cynical thought settles at the front of his mind nonetheless. The one who was supposed to be dead to the world so that she could be safe and live a carefree life of happiness, is alive. The world should believe that Ethan Hunt had nothing left to hold dear, no weak spot that any villain could use as bait, as the point for the attack. But now the sides are swapped. The world still believes Julia is dead while she’s alive. And the suffering husband left alive, is now dead. And the world will probably soon forget the name of the most famous IMF agent because in a few hours there’ll be nothing left to even hint that one Ethan Matthew Hunt ever existed.  
The thought kills Will and he almost physically feels how something inside of him breaks.

There will be nothing left, not much anyway, IMF will make sure of it and Will dreads the one thing that’s going to be left behind with him, that’s going to cling to him for the following years if not forever. The emptiness, the loneliness that everything he looks at will spark in him. Ever since he first came in contact with the name of Ethan Hunt he knew that it would somehow affect his life, one way or another. But after Croatia he was sure, he had to accept, that this man would be a constant part of his life whether he wanted it or not. And it doesn’t matter how long it took for them to meet again or for them to realise their feelings for each other. Ethan was always there in Will’s life, first a note on a file, then in his nightmares, then as the one building a cautious friendship between them, and finally as _the one_ , the man he loved and had been so happy with. A happiness he never thought he would be granted, especially not with Ethan. The thought that Ethan’s not even going to be so much as a note in a file again shocks Will although he knows the consequences of an agent’s death. But IMF can’t take his memories, they can’t take that from him, although they’ve effectively taken his heart.

Will has always been aware that this could happen to every one of them, it’s a likely scenario and the professional risk that they’re all willingly prepared to take. But still it sounds foreign to his ears, unbelievable because for some illogical reason he’s always thought of them as permanent. In every sense. All that Ethan was, the cause of his distress, his saviour, his lover, he’s always been there and he’s always been something akin to immortal.

Will knows it can happen to anyone but still he never thought it would happen to them.

Apparently Benji’s noticed his silence for he suddenly asks, “Hey, Will, are you still there?”

“Yeah, I am” Will replies hoarsely, not giving a damn about how weary and crestfallen he sounds.

“I won’t say I know what you’re going through” Benji begins after faltering for a few moments, “because I know that I don’t know but believe me when I say that this news… shattered me… Ethan was my friend, too, even though he never was to me what he was to you.” He cuts himself off, stammering helplessly on the quest for words, then adds in a hasty fashion, “Don’t get me wrong, not that I ever wanted that, that’s never been… been the case ‘cause I’m not… not like that... there’s this lovely girl from IT but she still doesn’t see me, I bet she never even realised my presence.” He chortles quietly and it’s a poor, pathetic sound.

“It’s all right, Benji.” Will joins his chuckling for a second but the sound soon dies in their throats.

Benji continues. “I know what we’re doing here is crap, it’s useless and we shouldn’t be doing it but here we are. Look at us. Negating all our training. But when it comes to coping with a friend’s death all the training in the world won’t help. We’re just trying to delay the inevitable which is sort of ridiculous, really, we’re grown men, after all.” There’s another sound adding to his low voice and Will has no trouble to identify it. Benji begins to cry mid-sentence, Will can hear the sobs shaking up his voice and the words stumble out of the techie’s mouth as he forces them to sound controlled but not quite manages.

Will’s attempt at a light-hearted tone fails miserably when he stupidly repeats, “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.” It’s all he can say at the moment, other words simply refuse to leave his lips and goddammit, he wants to comfort his friend but he knows everything he’ll say will only make it worse because there are no words that can soothe this. So he just remains silent, watching the trees sway in the wind.

Will wonders why he hasn’t started crying yet and he’s almost ashamed that Benji’s the first but then, Will’s always been one to hide his emotions while the techie’s always been much more open. It’s been Ethan who managed to elicit anything out of Will after he locked part of himself away after Croatia and the thought aches. But knowing that Ethan wouldn’t want him to close up again Will makes the silent promise that this time he won’t, he’ll find another way to cope and he’ll let Benji and Jane help him. Because that’s what friends are there for.

At the other end of the line Benji sniffs and he still tries to sound like it’s all ridiculous, attempting to lighten his tone a bit but Will doesn’t miss the waver in his voice. “He was my friend. One of my oldest friends and I just… I never… never imagined that there could be anything out there that could harm him and I never had to because he always came back. I did worry a lot, don’t get me wrong, I did… worry a lot because he did all those stupid things and” he chuckles wetly, “I still don’t know how he survived half of the shit he’s gotten himself into. And it’s, it’s stupid isn’t it, it’s a car crash, a simple bloody car crash. This is not his style. He’d have chosen a much more spectacular way to go. Something with a big bang, leaving behind a gigantic mess for IMF to clean up.”  
Will smiles sadly because Ethan did leave a mess behind. Only that it’s not a building that’s lying in debris, smoking and every lonely pillar left standing groaning under the burden, but a few shattered human beings, reduced to shadows of their former selves. And this mess IMF can’t clean up.

“I mean, with all the jumping he does, that’d be more like him to die jumping off a building without safety equipment. I still don’t know… I want to believe it’s not true, I want to think that we’ve still got to sift through all of this data and maybe we’ll find a hint that he’s not… that he’s been injured and in a hospital and that he’s going to be fine. I want to believe that but I know I shouldn’t because we’ve got to face it, don’t we? It’s only…” Benji trails off again, now openly crying.

Will holds the phone to his ear, he hasn’t moved an inch but he can’t bring his legs to move. He’s rooted to the spot, eyes still directed out of the window, looking through the glass at a street that’s as empty as himself. He gives Benji time, waiting for his own tears but they won’t come and Will wonders whether he’s cruel and unfair but his eyes remain dry and then Benji’s voice fills his ear once more and Will concentrates on it with all the power he can muster because it’s the only thing that keeps him sane.

“And what will Jane say? I don’t want to be the messenger again, you know, but she needs to know. She’ll probably be able to cope with this better than the two of us, I bet. We’re sentimental sods, you know that, Will, we’re idiots but I just can’t help it.” The last part of the sentence dissolves into a sob and Benji’s voice sounds so terribly contorted that Will feels the sudden need to put an arm around his shoulder but at the same time he’s glad that he’s alone.

“I should have been there” Will suddenly says, surprising himself that he’s now voicing what’s been on his mind ever since the conversation started. “I should have looked after him. He wanted me to go home, to be safe but I didn’t want to and I should have stayed and made sure he was safe. And then all this wouldn’t have happened…” He trails off, fighting with the words but he’s spared the effort to continue for Benji pipes up, if quietly, sounding small and defeated. Will thinks he’d rather have the old Benji back, the joking Englishman that keeps talking for hours on end, always there when someone needs cheering up (even if that isn’t really Benji’s forte).

“But if you stayed you could be dead too, it could have been you.”  
Will shrugs although he knows Benji can’t see it, his face void and his voice hollow. “And? What does that matter? I don’t care.” It’s not an _It would be better that way_ , it’s a simple blank statement, lacking all emotion as much as it holds the whole truth. He loves Ethan and he would gladly die for him, all of them would, and if it had been him instead of Ethan there in Valencia, well, that would have been okay. Still he’d prefer it if none of them died and Will grits his teeth, his fingers clenching around the phone. What is he supposed to do now? All Ethan wanted was for Will to be safe. Well, he is safe now but he can’t promise he will stay safe. He’d probably be even more reckless with himself on future missions if he can accept them at all. He’s not keen on dying himself, no, a part of him is afraid of it, but he wouldn’t care if it happened.

All of this begs the question as to what will become of their team. They’ve lost their leader and Will’s not sure if anyone of them can take Ethan’s place. Jane, perhaps. But she probably wouldn’t do it.

Will shakes his head, not wanting to think about _replacement_ because as far as he’s concerned no one can replace Ethan and no one ever will. Yes, Will does blame himself for what’s happened. Even if he doesn’t know if he would have been able to save Ethan, there still is the chance that he could have. He can never be sure and this irks him, it _bothers_ him because right now Will needs to be able to be sure of something, anything really, because his world has been turned around and thrown upside down on its head and no one would be able to think straight in such a situation, let alone be fucking _sure_ of anything. He will blame himself for it just as he blamed himself (and still does, in a way) for Croatia and isn’t this a second Croatia? The same shit all over again? It certainly feels like it.

Will sighs. He’s right at the beginning again, he’s walking in circles, and there’s no Ethan to show him the way, lead him.

“Now that he’s gone…” Benji sounds as broken as Will feels and Will envies him for still trying to be brave by covering it all up with shaky laughs every now and then while Will himself has long given up already. “To whom am I gonna give instructions, whom am I gonna tell off for taking unnecessary risks? Who’s Jane going to tease for looking like shit and for being completely blind for fashion and… and for not having asked you yet because you’re cute and it’s about time for you? And who am I going to scream at? Will, I don’t know, I just don’t know…”

Benji babbles on, an endless enumeration of all the things he won’t be able to do anymore but the words soon fade into a static noise, like a river running through Will’s ears because this is it. The last straw that eventually slips out of Will’s grasp. The realisation weighs heavy on his shoulders and it _hurts,_ hurts so much Will isn’t sure he can bear it. Ethan won’t come back. Benji’s said it and Will knows it, it has been there hanging in the air around him for God knows how long they’ve – _Benji’s_ been talking but only now does the information register with Will’s mind. Ethan won’t come back and Will can’t stop his brain from forming his own list, from throwing all the things at him that will never happen again. Ethan’s never again going to hold Will in his arms, Will’s never again going to fall asleep next to him, completely worn out after a mission, snuggled against his side, face pressed into his shirt, he’s never again going to wake up to Ethan watching him, smiling fondly, Ethan’s never again going to make his lame jokes or compliment him every day for looking great.

Will wants to shut his brain off but of course it doesn’t work and now the tears come, trickling down his cheeks but he doesn’t make a sound. He just lets them fall and staggers towards the bed, his body in sudden need of support, and he lets himself drop down on the mattress, Benji is still rambling in his ear and now they’re both crying but it doesn’t feel as liberating as Will hoped it would. Instead it merely makes him feel even worse but he stays calm, always anxious to keep his composure, and he cries silently.

The inevitable happens when his eyes drop, his vision blurry, and his glance falls onto his hand with which he’s bracing himself on the bed. The silver ring sits quietly on his finger, a reminder. Some may say the whole engagement business, including rings, is antiquated for the marriage is what counts but Ethan’s always been old-fashioned. In many aspects. Another reason why Will loves him. Now he wishes the ring would just disappear for it only intensifies the finality of it all, so shortly before they could have had permanence.

_But nothing is quite forever, especially staying together._

The line pops up in his head from out of nowhere, and sometimes, he thinks, music can be just cruel.

Will can’t drag his eyes away from the ring and the memories come flooding back before he can stop them.

He remembers how Ethan had proposed to him, how he had smiled. The proposal had come out of the blue, spontaneous, it had seemed more like on a sudden whim than anything else. So very like Ethan. But he had had that brilliant smile on his face and basically everyone knows that Will can’t resist that smile (truth be told, who has the willpower to deny Ethan Hunt anything?) So Will had said yes and he had said yes because he wanted to and he’d probably never been happier in his whole life.

And they haven’t even told Benji and Jane yet because Ethan had only asked him the day before they’d set out for Valencia.

Now, there’s nothing to tell anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Ethan’s hand feels warm in his as they walk up to their apartment after having parked the car. They don’t usually do this – holding hands in public – but today has been_ terrific _and Will doesn’t give a damn. He leans into Ethan’s side, stealing his balance as the other man fishes around in his pockets for the key and then Will grows too heavy and they stumble sideways, laughing like little schoolboys._

_Ethan pokes him in the side, still grinning. “You know what?” he asks, looking Will straight in the eyes. “Let’s go for a walk.”_

_“What, now? We need to pack, we’re off tomorrow morning.” The question is superfluous, and the argument even more so because Will’s already thought,_ yes, let’s do this _and Ethan laughs, shaking his head._

_“Of course now, what d’you think?”_

_Will shrugs, mildly surprised at how easily Ethan has him convinced. “Okay” he says and Ethan takes his hand again, leading him back the way they came from._

_It’s a nice, warm late summer evening and the light breeze plays with Ethan’s hair and Will decides that it’s a good idea. He hasn’t had enough time to enjoy this day and this just seems the perfect way to do it. They stroll through the streets, hand in hand, passing cafés and offices that spill out people onto the pavement, the working day drawing to a close. Everybody’s clocking off now and heading for a last cup of coffee and a chat with colleagues before going home. Cars rush by and people run past them to catch their trains; it’s just another day. Will can’t quite put the finger on what makes him feel so content but just in this moment Ethan squeezes his hand lightly and Will turns his head to offer him a smile. One day this man will drive him mad but until then he loves him. Madly._

_They enter a small park and follow the gravel path through the botanic peacefulness in the evening hustle and bustle of the city. The sun is warm on their skin and Will tilts his head back to squint into the sunlight. Somewhere to his right a dog barks and then a Jack Russell speeds past them, a tiny rocket on the quest for its bouncing ball._

_“What are your thoughts on dogs?” Ethan suddenly queries._

_“What, you mean Speedy over there?” Will uses their joint hands to indicate the direction of the barking animal jumping through the bushes._

_Ethan huffs a laughs. “No, dogs in general” he clarifies and then adds, “We could have this every day if we had a dog, you know?”_

_Now it’s Will’s turn to laugh. “I’m not intent on destroying your dreams, darling, but how are we supposed to care for a dog? Do I have to remind you of what we do for a living?”_

_“There are always neighbours” Ethan counters and Will just shakes his head._

_“Sure” he gives back. “But it wouldn’t really be_ our _dog if it spent most of the time at our neighbour’s.”_

_Ethan turns, eyeing him with a mock-offended look. “Why do you need to argue about everything?”_

_“Because someone needs to remind you of your stupidity” Will comments, matter-of-factly. “And it seems I’m the only one who doesn’t get bored of telling you. No, scratch that” he corrects, “it_ does _get exhausting.”_

_Ethan decides not to gift Will with any form of answer other than a displeased grunt and the analyst laughs again, wondering bemusedly if too much head shaking can cause traumatic brain injury._

_“Anyway, what kind of dog did you think about?” Will asks, not because he wants to encourage Ethan in any way, it’s more the most obvious question to go for._

_For a while there’s nothing but brooding silence next to him while they walk along the path. “Well, it’s got to be a real dog” Ethan states eventually. “I mean, a big one, not as wiry and crazy as that little shit” he quips, motioning towards the Jack Russell toying with its ball. “A Golden Retriever would be nice, or a Labrador. They’re just as cute as you.”_

_Will stops, putting on his best_ you serious? _look and pointedly ignoring the blush cheekily creeping up his face. “Golden Retrievers are terrible watchdogs” he informs Ethan._

_“What do we need a watchdog for, we’re trained agents. We’ve got our senses, we don’t need a dog to watch out for us.” Ethan’s reasoning isn’t even that far-fetched and maybe that’s why he’s looking almost affronted when Will laughs at his argumentation._

_“Would you honestly want to go out with a dog when it rains and you could stay on the couch with me instead? Never mind that the dog would smell and-”_

_Ethan lets go of Will’s hand and cuts him off indignantly, words emphasised by a sweeping gesture. “I could take it out on my morning run every day, so you see, you’re not very convincing, Will. Admit it, this is a hopeless battle. You can’t deny me anything.”_

_“No,_ you _can’t deny_ me _anything” Will declares, tongue-in-cheek and his grin is only slightly smug. “Besides, the only hopeless case around here is you.”_

_The bark the Terrier provides conveniently underlines Will’s statement and the analyst smirks with delight when Ethan gives up, throwing his arms up in exasperation, but he isn’t prepared for the tackle that almost knocks him over and next thing he knows he’s staggering backwards until his feet get into a fight with a very nasty stone and he trips, dragging Ethan down with him as he falls. Unfortunately, Will discovers that the grass isn’t that soft a pillow to land on and with the additional weight of the man on top of him it only does a semi-good job of breaking his fall._

_Will lets out a pained “Ouch” and scrunches up his face when all he gets in return is a sloppy kiss to his cheek._

_“Get off me” Will huffs and tries to push Ethan off of him but the older man swiftly captures his arms, effectively pinning him to the ground, his knees on either side of Will’s body, pressed close to impede every getaway._

_Since Ethan’s also essentially covering the most part of his field of vision Will’s world shrinks down to his boyfriend’s brilliant smile and Will would be lying if he said he didn’t love this. Still, he does need oxygen._

_“Ethan, this is nice and all, well, depends on the definition, but you’re getting a little heavy, you know?” he tries but Ethan doesn’t even seem to hear him._

_Instead he continues staring at Will, examining his features closely, all the while keeping the smile alive._

_“Would you want to keep your hopeless case?”_

_The question comes so unexpectedly that Will nearly misses it. “What?” he blinks._

_Ethan’s green eyes turn soft and he speaks under his breath when the next words leave his mouth. “I don’t want you to have any doubts about this.”_

_Will can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes his chest but he feels a little dumbstruck for he can’t quite wrap his head around what Ethan’s trying to tell him. “Doubts about what, Ethan?”_

_Later Will was glad that he didn’t blink in this very second because otherwise he might have missed it._

_“Marry me?” Ethan doesn’t sound as self-confident as he usually does but there’s still a great dose to it and honestly, when does his massive ego (because no matter how much Ethan keeps complaining and negating, Will’s got a hundred and fifty-three proofs that it is indeed_ massive _) not seep through?_

_Finding oneself speechless in the face of a question that requires an answer, and rather urgently so, is not the most pleasant of situations. Gaping at the one posing it is indeed not the finest way to wait until one’s brain shifts gear but never, in his whole shiny career as an analyst has such a simple question rendered Will so utterly lost for words. A second that feels more like an hour later his brain courteously points at the copious questions and doubts lining up at the back of his head – at the back because Will’s already made a decision._

_Unfortunately, his mouth doesn’t quite want to play along for instead of the one word he’s planned on, four less friendly relatives come tumbling out of his mouth. “Are you kidding me?”_

_“Will, of all the answers you could_ possibly _give, and believe me, with you that’s quite a mountain of possibilities, this is by far the one I least expected.”_

_And shit. Ethan looks genuinely hurt even though he’s trying to cover it up with the ironic undertone in his voice and Will can’t have that, now can he?_

_He tries to shake his head as if to scold himself but his current position doesn’t leave him much room to move so instead he opts for squeezing his eyes shut for a heartbeat and ensures that he’s saying the right thing this time around. “Um… yes?”_

_It doesn’t prove to be any better, though, for Ethan suddenly hangs his head and exhales, an emotion accompanying the motion that Will has trouble identifying._

_“Will, that sounds awfully like a question.”_

_This certainly isn’t what Will was getting at since inwardly he’s said yes already for about a hundred times. In every sense. Yes to a life with Ethan, yes to marrying him, yes to everything that’s going to entail. He just needs to let Ethan know._

_So he frees one of his hands out of Ethan’s grip and begins to card his fingers through Ethan’s hair that’s warmed by the setting sun. The touch lets his soon-to-be husband glance up and just when their eyes meet Will says with all the sincerity and honesty he can put into it, “Yes.”_

_He can literally see the smile forming on Ethan’s face and it has him feeling so relieved that he lets out a jittery laugh that’s stifled by the kiss pressed to his lips._

_“I love you, Will.” It’s muttered quietly, a hushed promise against Will’s ear and he smiles against Ethan’s lips as he kisses him back, a silent reply, doubting that he’s ever felt better._

_It’s the best form of doubt there is, he decides._

_Realising that his other hand has been released from captivity as well, Will wraps his arms around Ethan’s back and pulls him closer until they’re flush against each other and he buries his nose in Ethan’s hair, inhaling the scent of him. Ethan’s pulse, he realises as he feels it, is going way too fast but his own heart’s aiming for world record and he feels that rush in his veins that their proximity tends to cause. Will doesn’t mind, though, because their joint heartbeats are like fireworks on New Year’s Eve and he’s never felt more alive._

_“You know I can’t say no to you” he whispers and it’s meant for much more than just the proposal. Because let’s face it, Ethan’s right, Will can’t deny him anything, and to be frank, he has no intention of doing so._

_He feels the chuckle before he hears it and doesn’t refrain himself from joining in._

_“About the dog question” Will starts and Ethan braces himself on his hands to make some space between them. “What do you need a dog for when you’ve got me?” He knows he isn’t playing all fair when he gives Ethan his best impression of his puppy eyes but it’s worth the laughter it elicits out of his fiancé._

_Ethan rolls over to his side and then jumps up, holding out his hand to Will to drag him back up on his feet. Will grabs it and lets himself be pulled up (he lets out a suppressed groan when his back is lifted off the grass) only to find himself entrapped again for Ethan lays his hands on his hips and steps in close, this glint in his eyes that tells Will that he’s up to something and the analyst isn’t sure yet whether he’ll like it._

_“And now I want to get drunk” Ethan announces, just on the wrong side of decent._

_Will raises his hands in a gesture that clearly says,_ Heaven forbid! _and he attempts a step back but Ethan doesn’t let him as Will exclaims, “No way! We’ve got a mission tomorrow, as you apparently keep forgetting.”_

_The look he gets is telling enough. “Who says I need alcohol?”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“… can’t even remember what I was doing when the director came in this morning, he didn’t even knock and he’s a man with manners, but the way that he-”

The phone starts to glide out of Will’s loosened grasp but he barely notices and so he lets it slip through his fingers, not caring that the device takes Benji’s voice with it.

There’s only bitterness where only a few days ago happiness had filled every corner of his existence. Absently he wonders if time is the biggest enemy to men, so patient and generous in its gifts sometimes but not lacking of cruelty and brutality when taking something from you in a split-second. Will lets out a cynical snort that develops into a long-suffering sigh halfway through and he feels terrible. He can’t say if self-hatred is the word for it but it sounds right. Because, is this his way to mourn? Philosophising about the way of the world? It might just be a shield, then again. A barrier so that the weight of said world doesn’t crush him all too quickly.

Life writes the best stories, they say. Bullshit. Life writes stories like _Fiancé dies in car crash_ , it writes stories like _Madman launches nuclear missile against the US_ , stories like _Secret Agency hunts down own man._ The stories of heroes are short-lived, they perish quickly because there’s another war knocking on the door, another death to report, another life destroyed. Life gives you one or two moments of bliss, makes them feel like forever, and then squashes you.

If this is life then it can go to hell as far as Will’s concerned.

Why is it that it’s always the people who need to change? It’s been reality’s turn for ages and still that old hag keeps tormenting the people. Really, reality should take a good look in the mirror and ask itself why so few people like it these days.

Will feels cold and somewhere in a cobwebbed corner of his mind he knows that he’s beginning to shut himself off from the world and that means breaking his promise but he just doesn’t find it within himself to get himself together. He just doesn’t find the strength. Will feels so shaken up and the sickness that never really left him comes back with full force and he swallows down the bile rising in his throat. Eyes staring at nothing in particular he slowly hunches in on himself before he drops backwards and lands on the bed, facing the ceiling.

“Will? Are you still there? Will?” The silence carries Benji’s voice to his ears that leaves the discarded phone.

Will doesn’t answer, he’s forgotten how to speak and there’s nothing he’d want to say, anyway, so what does it matter. He could have been happy – he _was_ happy – and now his life only feels like a vicious circle, throwing him down into the mud again and again. Will knows that getting up gets so much harder with every time you go down. Ethan could do it, and he’s taught Will how to. Perhaps that knowledge will come in handy now or tomorrow or next week or next month…

“Will? Hey, buddy, listen-” Benji keeps asking for him and eventually Will manages to shake off a bit of the apathy that has taken a hold of him and he picks up the phone again, not wanting to brush his friend off like that.

“I’m here, Benji” he rasps, voice hoarse from disuse and shaky from crying.

“Do you want me to come over?”

It’s a polite offer and Will appreciates the thoughtfulness but still he gently, but firmly, declines. “No.” There’s a beat of silence and then Will figures that he’s got to say something, he’s got to let Benji know that he hasn’t given up on everything yet so he says, brokenly, “Thank you, Benji.” But what for? Not for telling him. Or maybe even for this. At least Will’s heard about it from him. But maybe he’s thanking Benji for saying all the things Will can’t find the strength to articulate. And maybe he’s just thanking him for _being there_ and the sudden realisation strikes him that he’s got only a few – _two_ – people who actually care about him. With Ethan at his side this never mattered for he was all Will ever needed but now that’s changed and his mind tells him he’s going to need his friends because he won’t find a way out of this alone.

“You can always call me, you know? Or come round. I don’t care what time it is. You can even yell at me if that helps you, just don’t… Just don’t disappear, Will, you hear me? Okay?” It’s said almost shyly and if they were in another situation, Will would have smiled.

Now, he only nods. “Okay.”

Benji can’t take the pain away and neither can Jane but perhaps they can share it and the thought feels comforting.

“Goodbye, Benji” Will says, shuddering at how final it sounds.

“I’m going to check on you if I don’t get a sign of life from you in the next days, yeah? Even smoke signals will do, just let me know if you need anything, okay?” Benji sounds sincere despite the half-joke and Will bites his lip as tears threaten to break him down again. He doesn’t deserve this.

“Yeah” is all he manages before he draws his trembling hand away from his ear and ends the call.

 

Will’s not sure where he’s supposed to go from here. He will, _he must_ be going somewhere but where he doesn’t know. He also doesn’t know if he’ll be able to go at all, let alone move on. He’s not sure he can bear it and the thought of leaving Ethan behind hurts.

But he has to, right? Stand up and fight, get up again and move on. If not for himself, then for Ethan. He promised it. He promised him to be strong, come what may. Always the reassuring thought in his luggage that his friends will be there to help him. He doesn’t have to leave Ethan behind, he’s not even sure he can for the man has become such a constant, stable part in his life. Will misses him and he will have to make room for the feeling as he finds another way, his promise in mind.

And Will always keeps his promises.

**Author's Note:**

> Go ahead, blame me for ruining your day.
> 
> By the way, the song Will thinks about is _Love is a shield_ by Camouflage.  
>  (Yes, I know, music gets to me a lot.)  
> (It’s my life.)


End file.
